


But in the back of my top I’m writing songs about we

by intherubble



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: M/M, Marijuana, Shotgunning
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-09-26
Updated: 2012-09-26
Packaged: 2017-11-15 03:14:44
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,781
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/522528
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/intherubble/pseuds/intherubble
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>But when he looks over at Zayn he’s just watching him with redrimmed bright eyes, drops a warm hand from the back of the couch to Liam’s neck where he’s getting tense, squeezes firm. “Liam, Liam, Liam.” his name sounds fond in Zayn’s mouth <i>Leeyum</i>.</p>
            </blockquote>





	But in the back of my top I’m writing songs about we

Liam imagines watching him try to light the bowl is like a comedy of errors. His finger trips over the carb nervously, not really sure what to do with it. He doesn’t thumb the lighter with enough intent to spark it the first couple times, the wheel turning uselessly against the flint. His mind’s jittery with Zayn watching him intently and he's blanking on all the instruction Zayn gave him before giving him a crooked assuring smile and passing him the small blown glass pipe. He clicks the lighter again. It bursts to life and Liam holds it outstretched awkwardly for a second. He brings it towards his face but when it’s over the end of the pipe he’s not breathing in so as he goes to tilt it to the bowl the flame licks up at his knuckle, singeing. He hisses and shakes his hand, the flame snuffs out. He hears Zayn laugh softly at his side and it makes him a little determined to get it right. Liam tries a few more times with varying success, mostly just tasting skunk tinged air and feeling the skin on the side of his thumb rubbing raw.

Liam’s glad he didn’t attempt this for the first time at some college party before the X-Factor, surrounded by random kids he isn’t really friends with that would’ve probably been cat calling and taking the piss. But when he looks over at Zayn he’s just watching him with redrimmed bright eyes, drops a warm hand from the back of the couch to Liam’s neck where he’s getting tense, squeezes firm. “Liam, Liam, Liam.” his name sounds fond in Zayn’s mouth _L_ _eeyum_.

“Here, gimme,” he murmurs, takes the pipe and lighter carefully from Liam’s clammy hands, their fingers bumping together. Zayn pulls a knee onto the couch and under him so he’s facing Liam. He lights the bowl, the bud flowering into embers and takes a hit. “Open your mouth,” Zayn's voice is high and tight, keeping the air in his lungs, and blindly places the bowl on the coffee table.

Liam’s pretty sure his mouth’s been stupidly slack already, watching the way the colored glass had pressed into the flesh of Zayn’s lips. He swallows thickly, does as he’s told. Zayn leans forward til Liam goes crosseyed trying to focus on him. Liam’s doesn't know what he was expecting but when Zayn blows the hot smoke in his face it catches him offguard. He sputters, choking on the cloying air and Zayn is falling back, peals of laughter interspersed with deep coughs. “You were supposed to _breathe in_ , you twat.” Liam can see tears leaking at the corners of Zayn’s eyes, they clump his eyelashes together so they look doll-like, Zayn’s eyes impossibly big behind his Elvis Costello glasses.

“I’m sorry!” Liam laughs at his own idiocy, “You didn’t warn me.”

“Did you think I was just going in for a snog?” Liam’s pretty sure it was meant to be a joke but it falls flat and they both chuckle awkwardly for an awkward second, wrong footed.

Zayn grabs for the pipe, “Alright. just breath in when I breath out. It’s not that hard.” Liam wasn’t expecting Zayn to be willing to try again but he licks his lips and nods. Watches Zayn pack the bowl with the end of the lighter, then spark it, chest expanding. When he turns to Liam this time he grabs him by the chin, pulls him in and holds him steady, blows a stream into the circle of Liams open lips. Liam tries his best to suck it in, not through his nose, tastes it traveling over his tongue. Zayn claps the hand that was holding Liam’s chin over his mouth. They’re so close Liam thinks Zayn’s mouth might be resting on the other side of the hand but then Liam has a moment of panic because the hand's cutting off his nostrils too and he can’t breathe.

 _"S_ _hhh_ ,” Zayn hums, lays a hot palm at the center of Liam’s chest and rubs. “It has to go down here.” Liam nods tersely, fighting the building urge to cough up the heaviness settling in his lungs but Zayn let’s him go. He breaths out a cloud that Zayn squints against and it shocks him like he doesn’t know where it came from. Zayn is watching his mouth though and there’s this weird moment when he rubs Liam’s wet bottom lip with his thumb and Liam flushes down to his toes. Wonders how much Zayn smoked before he got there.

Liam’s aware of his heart like a giant lump in his chest, expanding so it’s crushing everything else, beating faster and slower at the same time. Zayn is still dangerously close but then he’s reaching for the bowl again, doesn’t ask Liam, just tokes it and crowds into Liam’s space. This time their lips skate across each other because Zayn’s arm is wobbling where he’s supporting his weight on the couch cushion and it almost makes Liam’s throat snag on the intake. He’s expecting Zayn to help him keep the smoke in with a hand again but instead Zayn pushes forward. Sstoppers Liam’s mouth with his own. Liam wonders if this is just another part of shotgunning, Zayn’s hand is cupping his jaw lightly and Liam thinks he might go crazy with how intimate it feels. There’s acridly sweet smoke swirling inside him, his skins buzzes like it’s rippling all over, eyes hot and scratchy, and Zayn is pressing Liam soft, sucking kisses, these little tiny nips of their mouths.

Zayn pulls back when Liam can’t help the smoke escaping between them at the seams, their lips stick for a second, pulling like they’re trying to stay together. Liam coughs up the rest of his lungs, blood rushing to his head making him dizzy, feels like his whole body is wracking with tiny tremors but his hand is steady where it’s apparently bunched in Zayn’s shirt. Zayn’s watching him with these big frightened eyes like he’s afraid he broke something. Liam collects his breath then is saying “ _again_ ” before he knows what he’s doing.

He thinks he sees Zayn’s chest pick up, looks like he has to take a moment to quieten himself, pulls off and folds up his glasses in deliberate motions, before he can take another hit from the bowl. Zayn moves to him slow this time, whispers, “ _You’re so high right now_ ,” like it’s his confession to make. There’s not much pretense now, Zayn slots their lips together, letting Liam take the air from his lungs, mouth working gentle and slow at Liam’s lips, careful like he doesn’t want to ruin it. Liam curls his tongue like he’s trying to bring the last of the air to his throat but it catches on Zayn’s lip, hears him mewl quietly.

When they separate so Liam can exhale there’s a faint trail of smoke coming from Zayn’s nostrils too. His mouth looks tender and wet and Liam is leaning forward to kiss him again without thinking, the bowl rolling on to the floor neglectedly, spilling ash and bud. Zayn is kissing him back immediately like he can’t _not_. Liam yields easily to Zayn pressing him back into the cushions, has a feeling Zayn needs it that way, slides his hand up Zayn’s chest and tucks his fingers under Zayn’s collar.

They kiss messily and mindlessly, Zayn fitting himself in the vee of Liam’s splayed legs. Liam’s fingers find the waistband of Zayn’s sweatpants, which are probably his anyway, dip below them and thumb at the elastic of his Calvin's. Maybe it's the weed, but Liam feels bold, like he could have Zayn how ever he wanted if he only said. Liam’s other hand smooths up Zayn’s back, Zayn's muscles flex and bunch as his hips move in a slow rocking rhythm that he’s probably not even aware of.

The hand at Zayn’s waist tracks around to the front then surges determinedly down into Zayn’s pants, breath catching to match Zayn’s as it settles over the hot press of Zayn's cock. His fingertips trace over the head, slippery, down the silky skin, twitching under his touch. Zayn’s head drops to the crux of Liam’s neck with a groan, ruts into Liam’s fist. He moves it smoothly up and down Zayn's length, skin catching where it’s dry, then sliding easier when he strokes his thumb over the head and smears precome down.

He jerks him off, desperate all of the sudden for the wrecked noises spilling from Zayn’s throat. High on the idea that it’s him pulling them out not some random girl. Zayn lifts his head, breath coming in pants, their temples knocking together then Liam’s turning his head to tag a kiss to Zayn’s slack mouth. A slow swipe of Liam's tongue, shallow in Zayn's mouth, and Zayn’s spilling in bodywarm throbs over Liam’s knuckles. His brows are knotted up and his face looks devastated.

They’re still for a minute but before the haze lifts Zayn is kissing him again, mouth searing and still tasting like pot. He palms at the bulging of Liam’s pants, kneads him in a way that makes Liam’s insides turn liquid, forget about the cum on his hand that’s smearing into the fabric of the couch. Zayn grips Liam’s sweats and boxers, pushes them down under the curve of his ass so his dick slaps up obscenely. Zayn gets a hold of him and Liam’s chest shakes. Screws his eyes shut then looks down between them. The fat tip of his cock shines, red and wet, slicking Zayn’s fingers where they slip over it in a half-twist.

Then Liam watches in a daze as Zayn shuffles down his body, eyes intent on Liam’s face, hand still moving. His nose bumps Liam's stomach then he sort of rests his cheek on the jut of Liam’s hip. Zayn brings Liam's cock, still sliding in and out of his fist, to his mouth. Swipes his tongue over the head, slows his hand and presses the tip of his tongue into the slick flesh while Liam is on the verge of hyperventilating.

His hand tangles in Zayn’s hair, soft and curling on their day off, amazed even now that Zayn lets him do it. But Zayn keeps going, sucking Liam into his mouth. Liam shudders, hard. His grip on Zayn tightening then tugging strong, pulling him up and off. And Liam is coming, Zayn flinches back as the hot pulses jerk out of him.

Liam twists Zayn’s shirt at the shoulder, groaning his name as Zayn fists him lightly, wringing the last of it out of him.  



End file.
